Vanishing Race 2: Faith
by Behind Your Cover
Summary: (BarneyWill) Number Two in the sporatically written Vanishing Race series, named after the CD by Air Supply released in 1993. Nothing slashie really happens, its more of just fluff and prettifulness.


**_Vanishing Race #2_**

**Faith**

* * *

He was sitting by the harbor when I saw him, looking like one of the pictures that I would give anything to paint. One of those paintings that would resemble a woman by the lighthouse waiting for her love to come home, or a heartfelt picture of a soldier holding his comrade as he dies. It was something along those lines, causing goosebumps to crawl up my legs and arms. I was beginning to think that it wasn't the sea air that was making my eyes water.

I hadn't seen him since we were children—and I still don't know how I knew it was him. He was so much different in that moment the Will Stanton I had met when we were boys. A jolly young farm boy, unremarkable yet unforgettable and attractive in his normalcy, with his stupid smile and his face always hidden in a book on history or anthropology or old legends. At that moment... he just looked sad.Something in me begged to know what was wrong; but part of me knew. And as I crossed the harbor, it hit me all at once and hard and as unpleasant a feeling as it could have ever been.He had lost his brother. In the instant I was close to him, I knew. His brother—his brother played the flute, always had a lovely sound to it. The knowledge jumped into my mind, as if pushed there.I reached out, eyebrows fitted together in worry, and touched his shoulder. He barely moved in response, but sat that only for a moment, still, proud, and sorrowful as a war monument, then turned his face up to me.I barely recognized him in that moment—his hair, once a dullish mouse brown was now fairly dark brown, streaked with gray in a few choice places, his eyes had bags under them and were ringed with red. But a smile cracked the mask of the mournful and tear-streaked, and Will Stanton said to me, "Barney? Barney Drew." He almost laughed—but I still don't know whether it was at me, or at himself. "Well here's a face that I'm much glad to see."My eyes widened in wonder, blinking a little more than usual, "How come I get the feeling that your knew I was coming." I said this too uneasily; I truly hadn't meant for it to come out that way, and a felt and saw a visible flinch in the other man that tore my heart."I might have," he said softly, "But you did come, now didn't you? So I'm not crazy yet."I don't know how long I stood there, off to the side of the stone bench he sat too upright in, until I sat down. It may have been hours before I got up the courage to sit beside him and to talk to him. And once I had sat down, I knew it was expected of me to say something, but the words weren't coming.

There wasn't anything for me to say, not until he started a conversation, not until he told me to leave or started to cry again or at least smiled again.

"Barney..." He said softly, "How are your brother and your sister? Simon and Jane; their doing well, right? Happy?""Uh..." I sat very blankly staring at him, unsure of what he said at first, "um... oh! Yes, they're doing great. Wonderful. Simon's got a tad left of college left to do—he graduates a few days after Easter. Monstrous load of classes, too, eight years he's got already. Jane's.... well, Jane's married." And I laughed, because every time I talked about them, I was happy, "She's got two boys, one and four years, and claims she's ready for another!"And after I had said all this, I realized the sadness that was burning in his eyes as he grinned politely at me, trying to share my enthusiasm. "But, yeah.... How are you and you're family doing?" The polite smile he had been feigning slid off his face with a little more grace then I remembered of him when we were small, and a thoughtful, far away look replaced it, "My family?"I was altogether sorry that I had asked, but I supposed there was nothing to be done about what was already said."Most of us have had a good time of it. My brother, Stephen—he was in the navy, did I ever tell you that? Well, he's home. But there were reasons...." He shook his head, "We're fine, though, I suppose that's the proper response, isn't it?"I peered at him curiously, "No... no, you aren't.""No," he smiled shakily, "no, I'm not. But I'm beginning to doubt that I have been for a long time, or ever was." He was looking at me strangely, beneath that shaky and broken smile, in a way that tugged at my heart painfully as if I should be remembering something and consoling him for it. But for the life of me, it was not there to so much as hint a memory. And it made me feel empty in an odd way that something was very wrong.But then the thought of his brother came back to me, and I thought how silly it was of me to presume; but it could be...."Barney Drew?" Will was blinking at me, rather confused and very concerned, "You look pale... I think you've had a bit too much of this cold air.""Your... your brother..." I started to speak, but then I bit the inside of my lip and sighed."What about my brother, and which one?" he said automatically, out of practice of making a joke of it. But it wasn't funny now, because I knew something that I shouldn't ought to. I knew which one."You... you can't hear his flute now..." I said slowly, words trickling off my tongue from somewhere else, "but... if you listen more carefully, you'll be able to make it out, if you like. Even sing to it. Because he's not really gone..." I gulped, before finishing, "He's not gone unless you completely let go of him. You've got to have faith."And when I had finished, I looked up at him and he was staring at me. It wasn't the blank stare that would have told me he thought I was insane. It wasn't an angry stare telling me I shouldn't have said it. It was a stare of totally lost confusion and a dawn of understanding. And I had a strong feeling that he knew why I said it, when even I didn't.But when I had gathered the courage to ask him what he knew of it, he started to cry. I might have felt guilty under different circumstances, but I didn't. He was all of a sudden smiling at me, with that childish and stupid grin from my past and had the most relieved look of gratitude.I reached out and wrapped my arm around his shoulders, grinning at him and laughing, "Will...?"He looked up at me with wide eyes that ought to be from a child, and not on a man not much over twenty-five, "What?"I had had a sudden idea."Can I paint you, Will Stanton?"And he grinned again, laughing into my shoulder. 


End file.
